A Broken Silence The Road Is Lost
CHORUS
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting
for him brother, playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score,
before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, but the love is
never more
VERSE 1
Wishing it all to end enraged by the slaughtering thoughts explode like my
heads a grenade and I drawed the pin talking to men with one choice to run
off or defend must punish to win, gotta let that gun off for ya kin the
only laws is ‘no laws at all’ once it begins from the smell of blood
violence is absorbed into the skin and the thoughts of kids caught up
should torture people to death now freedoms with them see if they morph and
see any sense
CHORUS
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting
for him brother, playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score,
before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, but the love is
never more
VERSE 2
Not all true pictures of war are drawn in the news so we painted a little
more like George Gittoes do jaded because we didn't hear them calls coming
through how we'd savor our days if we had to walk in them shoes countries
can't build without support for the youth they lost when their most
important resources abused forming our views, and not picking up on the
cues inner-city blues stop many from listening to the clues voices on mute,
so we whisper this to you no time for school, many children be enlisted to
be troops and we walk , thinking that the system got us screwed like we
taught ,just to keep a short distance from the truth when scores…are born
only to be drifting to a noose when they gone well be saying , lord forgive
we never knew gotta question why many, got there scriptures misconstrued
and why spending on weapons and not assistance is the rule,
CHORUS
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting
for him brother, playing outside in the rain Each day we hear the score,
before not after shots of war And the road to him is love, but the love is
never more
OUTRO
We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us and not the
millions of innocents that been blown up cold hearts disconnecting us from
our own blood for their objectives its best that they blindfold us
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the lane? Grandma waiting
for him brother, playing outside in the rain
We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us and not the
millions of innocents that been blown up cold hearts disconnecting us from
our own blood
